


Geralt x Reader Imagine

by Anonymous



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Ambiguous Genetalia (reader), Blow Jobs, Cum Swallowing, F/M, Gentle Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hand Jobs, Mentions of Blood (not yours), Mentions of Violence (not against you), Open to Interpretation/Projection Reader, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Reader swallows, Royal Reader, Runaway Princess Reader, Swallowing, Threats of Violence, sloppy blow jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You are a runaway Princess and Geralt saves you from bandits.You have the perfect way to thank him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 118
Collections: Anonymous





	Geralt x Reader Imagine

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to leave the reader as open to interpretation and projection as possible here; including no mention of physical appearance, description of genitals or pronouns beyond 'Princess'.  
> Feel free to translate this work on AO3. All I ask if that you link/inspire to the original work.  
>  **\- JJ**

They sneak up on you as you bend to drink from a stream. You have no idea where you are; the forest all looks the same to you, but you hope you are far from home, despite the longing pang that thinking of your family brings. But you could not stay, could not be wed off to some older man in the name of duty and honour. 

There are three of them, dirty and clearly living on the road. One of them makes their presence known by jeering at you. "Look 'ere, lads. A little _lady_ , all alone". He sneers _lady_ like its something filthy, baring yellow teeth in a grin that his friends match. Your stomach feels hollow as you turn, heart sinking and fear curling in your empty gut. You know how this will end; you're one girl with no training in self-defence against three men who are at the least, capable with a knife. 

"All alone" another man agrees, leering. 

"Please," you begin softly. "I have no gold to give, or any food. Please leave me alone". 

"Please leave me alone" the third mimics, voice over-high and feminine. Mocking you. It does nothing to ease the nervous flutter of your stomach, fingertips shaking at your sides. You only have a small knife stolen from your Father's study, and you know it won't do you much good. 

The first one who spoke took several steps forwards and you scrambled to maintain the distance, stumbling back into the shallow waters at the edge of the river. The cold is shocking, water swirling under your knees and soaking into the breeches you stole from the stable boy, filling your boots and rendering your socks squelchy and wet. The third man, furthest away from you and leaning against a tree with his arms folded, laughed. 

He laughed, and then the sound cut off with a short, wet gurgle. As one you all turn to him with varying expressions of confusion and wonder. From the man's throat sticks a shining, silver line that drips with red. It vanishes backwards into his throat like a mole disappearing underground and from its doorway more red pours. The bandit dropped heavily with his eyes rolling backwards and from behind the tree he'd been using as a post steps the most beautiful man you've ever seen. 

He is tall and broader than any knight at the palace. His shoulders are sloping and powerful with muscle like a war destrier, a loose black chemise stretching for its life over a powerful chest that tapers off into a neat waist. His hair is silver, like someone took the metal and cut it into the finest of strands. In contrast to this his eyes are golden, like the crown coins or the warming light of a fire. His beauty steals away your breath faster than the fear of the other men had and not even the large, gleaming sword he wields seems to garner the acrid feel of anticipation from you. 

Your saviour says nothing, rolling the sword handle expertly and fluidly in his grip as your remaining attackers splutter and yell, drawing their own paltry weapons. You are seemingly forgotten as they rush him but your feet do not obey the distant thought of running. 

The silver-maned man accepts their attack with predatory grace, slipping neatly out of the path of a small blade. His own sings through the air, harmonised with the man's cry of pain as he falls. Your saviour moves like a dancer, fluid and graceful, movements never faltering and muscles flexing and bunching as he cuts down the second man. He doesn't even appear to be out of breath as he draws straight, eyeing their fallen bodies before his gaze lifts to you. 

"I mean you no harm". His voice is deep but there is a softness to it, like he's trying hard not to spook you. He sheathed the sword behind his back slowly, telegraphing each movement for your wide eyes. Cold has now joined the remaining dregs of fear and it leaves you shivering in the water, watching warily as he approached with one slow step at a time, never dropping your gaze. The closer he gets, the more beautiful he is. The tip of his nose almost forms a little heart and his mouth is plush, surrounded by the lightest dust of stubble. He seems to grow in height and bulk as he approaches. 

"Did they hurt you?" 

You shake your head slowly, not quite trusting your voice yet. You still feel vaguely under threat, lingering instinct that leaves you slightly nauseous. Cold has begun to soak through your body, toes numb with it and fingertips rapidly cooling as the insistent river carries away your remaining body heat. He seemed relieved by your answer, breaking your gaze just long enough to look over his shoulder. When you follow it a chestnut mare is visible in the distance, head ducked into a thicket of grass and seemingly uncaring for her rider's absence. 

When he turned back he stepped closer, readily into the edge of the water where he extended a hand slowly, palm up in invitation. His hand looked large, warm, sword callouses lining the heel and thumb. Apprehension crept down your spine in a steady crawl, but it was background and weak and you end the hesitation by reaching slowly for his hand, not brave enough to lift your gaze as your own palm slides over his. You are right - His skin is warm and rough, an unfamiliar but pleasant drag over your palm. 

He leaned back, pulling, and though you have already learned he is strong the power behind the act still caught you by surprise. Either he misjudged the distance between you or he momentarily forgot his strength because his force carries you in a lunge over the edge of the river and right into his space. You sucked in a sharp breath, one arm moving to catch yourself against his arm and the air carried with it the scent of horse, steel and clove. It is an oddly rich, soothing scent that seems to soak into your chest and plant roots there. 

"I'm-- You were lighter than expected, my apologies". Its an awkward apology, stilted and as though he is unused to apologising for anything. That wonderful voice wrapped around you again, sinking into your bones as you finally gathered the courage to gather yourself, straightening in his space. This close you can see the design of the medallion that hangs around his neck; black stone carved with white, a spiralling wolf that howls against his heart. This close you feel small and craven before him, a weak thing in the shadow of a predator. 

Yet he rouses no fear in you. Quite the opposite, in fact. His beauty is a fact you cannot tear your focus from as he steps back to evaluate you. You have been fixed with assessing gazed before but this feels strangely nothing akin to that and you flush with heat, embarrassed. You know make a sorry state - Ratty from travel, wet from the river and unkempt. A far cry from the preened high born you once were. You wonder, idly, if he would look at you differently if he met you that way, instead of this way. 

The fear has bled away but your heart still pounded at your chest, adrenaline too stubborn to be chased away as he let your hand drop and gave a low hum, seemingly satisfied that you were telling the truth about being unharmed. Unbidden in your embarrassment your gaze dropped, fixing on thick, muscular thighs of its own accord where the dark fabric of his breeches was wet and tacky with blood. 

"You're hurt" you blurted out, the words leaping forth with surprise. Though the fight had been quick it hadn't seemed as if any of the men had gotten close enough to land a hit on this creature of fluid power. He followed your gaze, uttering a gruff sound of agreement. 

"Wound from yesterday" he explained, deep voice taking on the roughness of annoyance. "It bleeds but I've no needle to sew it". 

Concern and pity lanced through you, sudden care for this stranger who's name you don't even know. He saved your life, and he ailed from an unclosed wound. You stared for a moment longer, watching the meaty limb flex as he altered his weight, and then you were struck by a memory from several months ago; two knights fashioning a needle from bark on your travels to a neighbouring kingdom. You feel the weight of the knife in your boot and the press of its angled hint against the muscle of your calf. 

"I can help" you offered tentatively, raising your gaze to meet his surprised, pensive stare. His eyes really are a thing of beauty - Rich and unusual, expressive as much as his face. 

He was bemused as you explained and either unused to company or unsure how to act around you in general as he helped you to find the right piece of smooth bark, shaving at it and whittling it until it was a thin roundness with a spiked tip. It was not ideal or particularly clean, but he appraised it with surprise and thoughtfulness. "This might work" he rumbled begrudgingly, inspecting it for a moment longer. The uncertainty of being in his presence had melted away entirely and now your heart thumped for an entirely different reason, nervous attraction thrumming through you. It was how you imagined the Princesses of the fairytales felt when meeting Prince Charming. 

You had not been turned away nor left yet, so you reached for the needle as he went to set it aside. "Please," you asked softly, gaze imploring as you took it gently from his grasp. "You saved my life. I've been sewing since I was a young girl, let me". 

_Let me take care of it._  
 _Let me take care of you._  
 _Let me say thank you._

His eyes locked onto yours and seemed to flay you raw, searching you before with another reluctant hum he nodded, just once. You let out a breath and reached for the thin line of thread he'd taken from a spool in his saddle packs then looked back up, reeling when you found him in the midst of prying open his breeches, pushing them down with little fanfare or consideration. Your lungs felt empty and your gut twisted over itself, tightening as miles of muscular, scarred, furred flesh was revealed. He was truly built like a creature of power, thighs flexing with raw strength as he revealed the sluggishly bleeding wound. 

The sight of blood doesn't revolt you, but it definitely isn't pleasant and your throat flexes, gut knotting slightly. You're no stranger to wounds but this is certainly amongst the worst you've seen, and by the tales of knights and brave men this is hardly a life threatening wound. Its gruesome but relatively shallow. For a moment you can't decide what catches your eye more, his thighs, the weeping wound or where his shirt falls loose over his pelvis, hiding from view what lurks behind. 

Before you can second-guess yourself and your ability to hold your paltry breakfast you sink to one knee, unthinking of the action and intending only to be in a suitable place to tend to his wound. The intake of air above you had you looking up, and...

Oh.

Heat floods you again, embarrassment warring with the faint wisps of arousal. 

You are on your knee before him, small and in an inappropriate position, all things considered. Its as though you're going to use your mouth for his pleasure, not stitch a wound. This low he towered over you, imposing but not threatening, his gaze tight as he stared down at you, long fingers flexing at his sides. 

Not addressing this was definitely favourable so you lowered your gaze quickly and ignored your proximity to his crotch, picking up the damp rag besides you and reaching carefully for his skin. The meat was firm and solid beneath the fabric where you pressed the cloth, and the blood came away easily as you gently followed the slope of each individual trail. You thought idly back to your past partners and how none of them had made you feel this way - As though you were walking on the thinnest of planks above hot coals. 

You have no choice but to set your hand on him for balance and to hold his flesh steady as you begin to push the needle into the first fold of skin. He sucked in a sharp breath in tandem with your own, the muscle beneath your palm jumping. "I'm sorry" you murmured gently, thoughtfully rubbing his furred thigh with your thumb as you pulled the thread through. 

By the time you pulled it taught on the last pass and used your teeth to sever the thread and tie it your knee ached and he had gone perfectly still under your touch. You had momentarily lost yourself in the familiar motion of the needle, managing to largely ignore the predicament you were in, but now, looking back up at him there is no ignoring it. 

He as been watching you the entire time. 

There is something unreadable in his molten gaze, a softness chased by darkness, his fingers curled against his flank, creasing his shirt where it is already stretched over the gentle rise of what can only be his cock, hardened by - By you, on your knees at his front, hands on his bare flesh and suturing his wound. 

Your pulse rabbits, leaping like a rearing horse. Your aching knee and the slight deadness in your thigh suddenly became long forgotten as your breath fled your lungs, eyes widening. Your most private depths throbbed with the realisation, something warm settling low in your stomach and spreading out towards your hips, slow and leisurely like water. You can feel that tender space within you flex in want, yearning quite suddenly for what it has never had. 

You swallowed and began to reach before you could think of it, spooking in surprise when his large hand closed gently around your wrist. 

"What are you doing". 

It was somehow spoken like a command, not a question, and the dryness in your throat had nothing to with thirst as you looked up timidly. 

"Let me" you murmured weakly, echoing your earlier plea. You were almost ashamed of yourself for being so wanton; reaching for the cock of a man whose name you still did not know, here on your knees with the corpses of three men not even a league in the trees behind you. Your Mother would scorn you like some brothel whore if she were ever to find this out. 

His gaze darkened further like the dying embers of a fire, fingers flexing briefly around your skin, though they never tightened to hurt. 

"You owe me nothing" he informed you gruffly, something akin to despair bleeding into his words, as though this was a scenario he found himself in often on that basis. It made sympathy curl within you and you longed to gather him in your arms, to card your fingers through those wavy locks as your assured him of his worth. 

"I want to" you whispered, pressing gently against his grasp. He held you for another two inches before his hand fell away, back to his side as your fingertips brushed his shirt hem. The material was stuff with wear under your touch but still held the relative softness of its fabric, moving easily upwards each inch that you raised it, folding over itself as it revealed more muscular thigh, and then the hem of grey small-clothes. 

You were trembling again now, but it was with anticipation as you watched the slow unveiling of where his small-clothes strained over the largest bulge you'd ever seen. Heat lanced through your hips again, sinking into depths of your own flesh and you had to suck your lower lip between your teeth, feeling the thin line of their pressure as you stared, acutely aware of every breath rasping through your lungs. 

There was no shame to be found as you held his shirt out of the way and reached for the waist of his small-clothes, hyperaware of his burning gaze on you. It felt as though he was turning you inside out with it, staring into your very essence as you gripped the fabric and pulled. Given the barest inch of room his cock sprang upwards against his muscular hip, jutting against the cut of muscle. 

The more of it was revealed the deeper the aching heat within you ran, arousal burning through you until you were trembling for that reason only, nervous gone in the mouth-watering reveal of his flesh. It was large and thick, sculpted like the finest of marble. It looked soft but firm to the touch, silken skin shining in the mid-day sunshine with the thin sheen of pre-spilt seed. Your breath fled your lungs and refused to return and your sides seemed to save with each short burst of air, teeth sinking slightly deeper into your lip as you kept pulling. 

His balls were round and full when you tucked the waistband beneath them, heavy with seed and tight with arousal, the perfect base to his shaft. He had remained entirely silent under your scrutiny and when you glanced up again he was still watching you, eyes half-lidded and _hungry_. It made you feel weak and vulnerable again, soft flesh in reach of a predator's dripping jaws but still without threat. 

You found yourself holding his gaze as you reached for him, drawn to the pooling gold of his eyes like a moth to a flame. His chest sank with an exhaled breath as your tentative touch landed on him, fingers sliding over his thick cock. The flesh was warm and sturdy under your touch, miles of skin with its unique map of small veins and soft ridges. It jumped beneath your touch, flexing as you tried to wrap your fingers fully around it. His face held no outward expression as he watched you. 

Overcome with the desire to watch his cock under your touch you dropped your gaze, staring intently at where you were wrapped around him, small and no match for his size. His cock was flushed pink, darker at the tip where it seemed to vie for your attention. Drawn, you slid your hand slowly up his length, feeling the slopes and ridges of his cock, the smooth skin as you moved your thumb to press at the underside of his flared tip. The skin was even smoother there, spongy and silken and hot. 

You wanted to take your time, to explore his flesh as though you had hours, but in the fear of your courage failing you tightened your grip and angled his cock down until you could stare at the gentle curve of his slit, the shiny little pearl of seed that nestled there under your bare touch. His cock suited him, odd though it was to say, thick and powerful looking. You daren't imagine what it would feel like inside you, parting your body for itself, making a space within you. 

With a fortifying breath you inch forwards, balancing on both your knees in the soft, cool dirt, feeling it shift under your weight. His stare heats you like the warmth of a fire and something compels you to close your eyes, lips parting on a soft exhale, tongue flattening towards the bottom of your mouth, your lower teeth pressing against its underside lightly. Anticipation and arousal thrum through you, vibration down your spine, coiling in your gut and sinking as deep heat between your thighs. 

The first brush of smooth, warm flesh against your lower lip was surprising but not unexpected and you let your lip drag against it for a moment, huffing out a soft breath. There was no taste yet, just the silken slide of skin on skin, a slight firmness and the desire for more spurred you into parting your lips further, leaning so that the spongy tip of his cock slid over your lip and into your mouth. It rubbed along the corners of your lips as you impaled yourself on it, listening to his sharp intake of breath from above you. 

His cock was heavy and firm over your tongue, a welcome, rounded weight that tastes like warm, clean skin. Each tiny vein and fold of skin was a pleasant sensation within your mouth as you held him there, feeling the ache of your outer jaw, the way his cock pressed your tongue down against your teeth and kept your lips open and pursed around him. You had sucked cock before but this feels like a new experience in and of itself, like its your first time all over again. 

You can feel drool gathering around his cock as you close your lips around him, a gentle seal through which you suck more of him down, nudging his cock deeper into your mouth with the softest, lowest of moans. It must vibrate through him because he answered with a soft sound, shifting minutely in front of you. The dewy scent of the forest is overpowered by his own scent, by the warmth of his flesh as you slowly hollow your cheeks, suckling against his skin until your cheeks are hollowed and pressed around his length. 

He is a quiet man, far from the grunting knights and moaning Lordlings who make up your past exploits. It would be disconcerting if you couldn't somehow _feel_ his attention, that simmering gaze fixed on you and never straying as you lose yourself in suckling on his length. Here and there he let out a soft, short exhale, thigh muscles flickering as you stroked him in short little licks with your tongue. 

The dirt is gritty and silty beneath your knees as you shuffle, adjusting your stance so you can lift your other hand to join your first, fingertips sliding over soft skin and feeling its throbbing firmness beneath your hold. 

You are more impatient than he as you flatten your tongue once more and begin to slide off his cock, feeling the way his length slides against your lips and over your tongue, pursing them further until the flare of his tip presses to stretch them wider. Only then do you suckle tighter, feeling the pressure of the flex of your throat as you swallow him down again, sinking yourself upon his cock in a firm, steady slide. 

He hissed softly, the slightest of sounds that sent a tingle down your spine, a sense of satisfaction and soundless praise that spurred you on. Your own arousal ached with need and neglect but you ignored it for his, beginning a steady pace of sucking his cock that had your body thrumming with satisfaction. Never before had it felt like a prayer, like worship, and yet here you knelt before a man who made you feel seen far more than any of the Seven or the Gods of the men from the West. 

His cock is stiff in your mouth, straining for the depths of your throat where you long for it to go but aren't quite brave enough yet. Salt bursts on the back of your tongue to show his arousal and pride trickles through you. As you shift your top teeth accidentally ghost over his skin and above you he makes the softest of noises, not quite a moan but certainly of pleasure. You opened your eyes, lashes dipping for a moment before you looked up and found him leaning back on his heels to stare at you, eyes clouded with want and teeth grinding with restraint. 

Moaning softly you closed your eyes and began to suck his cock in earnest, slurping around his girth and stroking what you cannot take there with your hands. Its sloppy and tight and to you, _perfect_. On your tongue his cock tenses, fattening as your touch coaxes him towards completion. Your jaw aches where it is stretched open and hungry but the dull pain leads only to more pleasure. 

Your thighs trembled now, shaking with your own neediness that had built like a stoked fire, burning you up from the inside out. His moan rumbled through you like the summer storms, shaking you down to your core as you swallowed around him, throat flexing against his dripping head. He is within you, filling you up, taking over your mind as steadily as his cock sinks in and out between your lips. 

His cock twitched again, throbbing over your tongue in tandem with the gentlest of touches to your shoulder, the first time he's touched you since you began. You opened your eyes again, gaze flitting up but for once he wasn't looking, his head tipped back. He looked almost serene his way, lips parted slightly and brows just ever so furrowed, his own thighs tense and shaking where his pleasure rendered him powerless. 

His touch had evidently been a warning because no sooner do you fix your gaze on him his hips jerk forwards just once, a scant inch that presses his cock deeper into your mouth, forcing you to part around it as it throbbed and flexed in your mouth, hot, salted cream oozing over your tongue. His moan was deep like thunder, low and breathless as he filled your mouth with seed.

There is much of it, thick and hot in your mouth as he withdraws just a little, chest heaving with breath. For a moment it doesn't seem as though it will stop but eventually the pool of spend stops growing, his cock throbbing once more before falling as a still weight on your tongue. You looked up once more and found him staring down at you, expression soft but...Almost sad. It was an emotion you could not discern as you ran your thumb along where his cock disappeared between your lips, watching him shiver with stimulation, lashes dipping for a moment. 

You swallowed. 

It was more spend than you could swallow at once and you had to swallow again as he slowly leaned back, pulling his spent cock from your mouth as the last of his seed ran down your throat. Now he seemed surprised, almost perplexed, and the hand that lingered on your shoulder moved up, ghosting against your cheek. 

"You swallowed" he murmured, gravelly and low with pleasure. 

"Yes?" You questioned, voice a little weak with the ache of your jaw. 

Realisation seemed to settle over him, relieved and pensive both. 

"You don't know what I am, do you?"

"A man?" You questioned, cautious amusement lilting your words. "A man who saved my life. And a man with a very nice cock". 

Your Mother would truly weep for your words. Perhaps it was better you were no longer the heir - Or at least, not interesting in claiming the throne. 

His mouth curved slightly, a smile almost unbidden and his gaze softened as he stared down at you. "You shouldn't travel this area alone. Its full of bandits and beasts". 

There's a joke about beasts and his cock on your tongue, but you swallow it as you did your seed, the earlier events seeping back into your bones. He's right - This is no area for the likes of you, alone and defenceless. 

Your answering smile is coy, gaze dropping down meaningfully to where his cock still flopped through his open breeches, wet and slick from your mouth. 

"If you keep me with you, then I won't be alone, will I?"

He takes in a breath, gaze darkening, and reaches for you with intent. 


End file.
